Without hesitating, she dipped underneath his arms and walked to the club chair. Giving him a sassy look, she winked and then bent over the back of the chair, keeping her legs spread.
“Fuck,” Ian said, the single word sounding more like a prayer than a curse. “I could look at you spread out like this for me all night.”
She looked back and gave him a mock glare. “Don’t you dare.”
“You’re done waiting, huh?” he asked, obviously teasing her as he rolled on a condom while crossing to her. “I know the feeling.” He slid the tip of his dick over her slick core. “Damn, baby. I love the sight of this. The feel of you. Everything. I love it all.”
It wa just the high of the moment, she knew that, but still it would be easy to believe he meant more because the truth was she wanted it to.
He liked her.
She was falling for him.
Before the potential impact of that important distinction could hit, though, Ian sank into her, pushing away everything except for how he made her feel. Hands on her hips, he squeezed just enough to anchor her to him as he slid in and out of her, going a little bit deeper each time until she was filled with him. Already primed by her first orgasm, her body responded to the rhythm they set together. After each stroke forward, he pulled her back against him as he pistoned in and out of her, hard, demanding, just what she needed. This wasn’t about making love. It wasn’t about release. This was desperation and need and knowing that no matter how much she got, it wouldn’t be enough. She wasn’t sure it ever could be. When it came to Ian Petrov, she didn’t want now—she wanted forever.
“Fuck, baby. So damn good.” He reached a hand around the front of her waist and slipped two fingers between her legs. “I want to feel you come around my dick.”
With the way he was circling her clit, that wasn’t going to be a problem.
“That’s it. Rock against me. Show me what you want.”
She arched her back, changing the angle enough so that his cock rubbed against her entrance at just the right spot. Her thighs quivered as she tensed, her climax tightening into a ball of energy until it exploded, her orgasm slamming into her.
Ian’s grip tightened as she rode the wave of pleasure and he pumped into her once, twice more before burying himself as deep as he could and coming hard.
As they sank to the floor, sated, exhausted, both still floating a bit, Shelby blocked out that little voice that was already starting to whisper evil nothings in her ear. It was just the one last time. It may have meant more to her than to him, but that was okay. It wasn’t like a relationship between the two of them could work out. They’d both worked too hard to get to where they wanted to be in the hockey world to lose it all now.
“Stop thinking so loud.” He dropped the used condom in the nearby trash can and then scooped her up and carried her to the bed. “Nap first. Round two second.”
She loved the sound of that, but it probably wasn’t the best plan of action. “Who said you could stay the night?”
He sat down on the bed with her, pulling the covers up over her. “Do you want me to go?”
Ignoring the warning siren blaring in her head, she told the truth. “No.”
He smiled and tucked an arm around her waist, pulling her in snugly against him. “Good.”
Unlike at the cabin, Ian was out in minutes while she stared at the ceiling for an hour wondering what was going to happen next before finally drifting off without any answers about what was going to happen next.
Chapter Fourteen
Shelby was in a world of shit. She was smelling a hotel pillow. Also, she was wearing the hoodie Ian had left behind when he’d hurried out of her room shortly after dawn. Okay, shortly after round three and right before the team’s morning skate.
After finally setting the pillow aside, she reached for a leftover room service chocolate croissant and scrolled through the morning hockey headlines on her phone. Maybe there was some sort of My Strange Addiction episode she should apply to be on—pillow sniffers anonymous. That had to rank right up there with the one about the people who ate their own couch cushions.
A text notification popped up on her screen accompanied by a picture of a sparkling emerald green Mustang Shelby GT350 with a crisp white racing stripe down the middle of the hood.
Roger: How’s my favorite mustang?
Shelby: Purring like I’ve just pulled onto the straightaway.
Damn, it was the truth. Who knew orgasms and midnight room service could do that for a woman?
Roger: That’s what I like to hear. Any trouble finding those meetings on the road?
Shelby: Smooth sailing.
She’d gone to a church basement meeting in Denver and another in Vegas. Both had the same bad coffee and stomach-settling coming-home feeling. Even after six years, that sense never went away. Meetings may not always be a comfortable place, but they were always a safe place.
Roger: And the rest of things? Job?
Shelby: Job’s good. The rest? My head’s above water.
She wasn’t about to explain the mess that was whatever it was with her and Ian to her sponsor. She loved Roger, but she really needed to get better girlfriends. Talking about sexy times with him really just felt all sorts of wrong.
Roger: Do you need to hop on the phone?
Shelby: I’m good, thanks, Dad.
Roger: I’d be a lucky guy if that were the case.
Shelby: You’re a softie.
Not that anyone would guess it from looking at him. Wiry.
